


Ficlets & Snippets

by lavvyan



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Angst, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Slash, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 00:52:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 11,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16923513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavvyan/pseuds/lavvyan
Summary: A handful of 300-word snippets and other ficlets that were posted to my Tumblr. I might dump other short works here in the future.





	1. Consider: Self-defense training

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to import these for a while, but what with the current Tumblr shenanigans, I figured it was time to get to it. 
> 
> If you've left me a prompt on Tumblr and I've yet to respond to it, chances are it'll appear here if they really do cripple that site.
> 
> Not every tag will apply to every chapter. If you need some sort of heads-up before reading, feel free to contact me through gmail.

Consider: Danny Williams is a concerned father who fully embraces the idea of self-defense training for his little girl. He takes shameless advantage of any and all resources he has.  

Which is why Kono teaches Grace what stranger danger really looks like and how to get away from someone who is taller than her. Chin explains about the advantages of being underestimated and how not to telegraph her movements. Matty, the dork, tells her to yell “pedophile!” at the top of her lungs. Kamekona, upon hearing this, laughs and nods and then takes her to the side and shows her where to grab and how hard to twist. Kawika, once Danny stops side-eyeing him, teaches her how to hide in the underbrush. Toast programs an app that will send a text with her location to Danny’s phone if she utters a certain phrase. Max teaches her how to say “that man is bothering me,” in eleven different languages, including Klingon.

It’s the one instance other than school or Rachel where people who aren’t Danny are allowed to tell his daughter what to do.

Except Steve.

Steve is forbidden from teaching Grace any moves whatsoever. He can go running with her. He can help with her chemistry homework. He can even team up with her to nag Danny about eating more salad.

He can not, absolutely not, Steven, on pain of death, talk to her about self-defense.

It’s surprisingly hurtful.

When he asks Danny why he’s not allowed to help, he gets increasingly nonsensical answers like, “I want her to be confident, not turn her into a baby ninja,” and “I will not subject my daughter to your view of the world until I think she’s mature enough to handle it,” and “Will you give it a rest? Can you do that for me? Anything you can teach her, I don’t want her to learn, okay? No, don’t give me that face, this is my daughter, I have a responsibility to give her the tools she needs to grow up strong, and your skill set, while impressive, don’t get me wrong, you are crazy but I can acknowledge that you’re very good at what you do, but those skills are not among the tools that should be handed to my child.”

The one time he tries to bring the subject up with Grace, she looks at him with big, sad eyes and says, “Danno said to tell you shame on you for trying to go behind his back.”

So, okay. Danny doesn’t trust Steve with his daughter, that’s… that’s fine. They’re clashing heads more often than not. Just because they’re also growing increasingly comfortable with each other to the point where Steve is almost ready to admit that Danny’s fast becoming his best friend, his North Star, his… Well, it doesn’t mean Danny’s going to blindly believe that Steve’s combat training isn’t going to hurt his little girl. That Steve would never… he just wouldn’t.

He’s honestly surprised when Danny doesn’t yell at him for picking Gracie up from school when Danny’s in the hospital. He’s even more surprised at Danny’s bafflement at the very idea that he doesn’t trust Steve with Grace, of course he does, what the hell, Steven?

“So that rule about her self-defense training…?”

“Is still in effect. Don’t even think about it!”

“But-”

“No!”

And the years go by and it seems like everyone and their dog are allowed to teach Grace things about body tension and foot positions and moving from the hip, while Steve is relegated to being the fun uncle. Which he loves; he adores being the fun uncle who knows about cars and chemistry and foreign cultures and how to put up a tent without all the fussing, seriously Danny, have you never been camping before? He loves her. With his whole heart, he loves her, loves Danny, loves  _Charlie_ ; loves their private jokes and their weird little ways and how they all so obviously love him back.

He just wants to keep them safe. He doesn’t think that’s too much to ask.

Is it?

Then Grace turns 16 and starts learning how to drive, starts to roam further and further from home, meeting friends and going to parties without having to rely on anyone knowing where to pick her up, and Danny turns to Steve and says, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Steve asks, and raises his eyebrows because okay what?

Danny rolls his eyes like that’s going to help Steve read his mind.

“Okay, you can teach my daughter how to fight.”

For a moment, Steve doesn’t know what to say. He’s been waiting for this, somewhere at the back of his mind, has been hoping for it for almost nine years. But something about the sentence is off.

Something about  _Danny_  is off.

“I thought you didn’t want me to,” Steve says.

“I don’t,” Danny says, and it’s like a slap in the face. Steve tries not to show how much it stings. “I sincerely don’t, but some things only you can show her. I can’t… I don’t want her to know these things, but she needs to, and I can’t help her.”

What the-

“Danny,” Steve says slowly, because he can’t possibly be hearing this right, “are you asking me to teach Grace how to run a covert op?”

Danny laughs, a harsh sound that sends a shiver down Steve’s spine.

“I’m asking you to teach Grace how to keep fighting.”

“I don’t-” understand, Steve wants to say, but Danny interrupts him.

“You don’t give up.” When Steve doesn’t get it, Danny goes on, “No matter what happens to you, or who has you,” he swallows visibly, “or how much pain you’re in. You wait for the opening and you  _take it_ , and I need my daughter to do the same.”

“I give up sometimes, Danny,” Steve says, quietly. Ashamed.

Danny smiles. It looks so painful, so sad, that Steve’s heart aches for him.

“Even when you do,” he says, reaching out to cup the side of Steve’s neck, such a rare gesture, “you always buy us enough time to come find you.” His thumb rubs along the line of Steve’s jaw, just below his ear, and if Steve’s heart was aching before, now it feels like he’s bleeding out. “I need you to teach her that.”

Oh god. For years, Steve thought that if Danny ever asked him,  _when_  Danny finally asked him to show Grace some moves, he’d feel smug. Vindicated. Would maybe even pretend not to want to, just to make Danny say please. But this, this isn’t Danny asking for a favor, it’s Danny asking for the impossible.

This is torture.

“I can’t tell what’s going on in that head of yours,” Danny says, his hand still warm on Steve’s skin.

Steve closes his eyes.

“I can’t teach her how to trust you,” Steve rasps. “She already does.”

It’s a trust built from lifelong experience. Whatever happens, whoever has her, Danno will come for Grace and he will get her back. The knowledge is so deeply ingrained in her character she probably isn’t even aware of it most of the time.

Steve knows this, because he’s the same.

He feels Danny shift forward, feels Danny’s other hand coming to rest lightly between his shoulder blades, tugging him closer. He sways forward, drifts into the hug like a ship into harbor after a storm, broken but safe.

“You’re a goof,” Danny mutters into his ear, but for once the words sound almost kind. “I’m asking you to teach her some of that Army mental mojo, not put her through Hell Week for me to save her from. Any saving required, we’ll take care of as the need arises, okay?”

“‘We?’” Steve asks, pressing his nose more firmly against the side of Danny’s neck. Maybe Danny’s scent can distract him from the way his heart his skip-thumping in his chest.

Danny’s response is to hug Steve more tightly.

“Yes, 'we.’ Of course 'we,’ when has it ever not been 'we?’ When have my children ever given you the impression that they don’t trust you just as much as they trust me?” Danny turns his head to leave a quick kiss just below Steve’s ear, and then he pulls back. Reluctantly, Steve opens his eyes to meet Danny’s gaze. “Okay?”

Steve isn’t entirely sure what Danny’s asking, but it’s not like there’s more than one possible answer.

“Okay,” he says, and just in case it was the question he’s been wanting to ask himself, he straightens his shoulders and leans down to bump his lips against Danny’s.

The smile Danny gives him is more beautiful than a Hawaiian sunrise.

Steve grins and takes Danny’s hand, absurdly pleased that he won’t have to settle for Danny’s shoulder or elbow anymore.

“Navy,” he says.

Danny’s smile dims, becomes puzzled. “What?”

“It’s Navy mental mojo,” Steve says, because no matter how emotional a situation might get, some things are never allowed to pass. “Not Army.”

Danny rolls his eyes.

“You know what? I take it back,” he grouses, though he makes no attempt to pull his hand from Steve’s grasp. “You’re not allowed to teach Grace anything, ever.”

Steve only grins wider.

“You love me,” he says, and he knew that before, of course he did. Hasn’t doubted it for years. And yet, somehow, the knowledge feels entirely new.

“Let me tell you something,” Danny begins, and Steve listens, gladly, will listen for the rest of his life.

Also, he’ll finally teach Grace how to throw a knife.

It’s an important part of Steve’s mental mojo.


	2. 300 Words: Magically Inclined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Novemberhush wanted: If you’re still taking prompts and feel inspired to write some (not too angsty or at least angst with a happy/hopeful ending) McDanno for the line “Do you wanna get out of here?”, that would be great.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

“Do I wanna-” Danny huffs and tugs fruitlessly at the hands that are cuffed behind his back. “ _Yes_ , I wanna get out of here, but,” another tug, “I’m a little tied up right now.”

Steve purses his lips and, with a quick jerk, undoes his own cuffs. He holds up the key, jiggles it in the air.

Danny gapes.

“Where… How did you…?”

“Magic,” Steve says, and drags him out of the shack before those goons return.

~~~

The rope saves him. Steve closes his good hand around it, twists his body to turn his downward momentum into an upward swing, tucks in his knees and rotates his legs so he can slide onto the roof. Danny’s hand clamps around his upper arm and keeps him from slipping back again.

His fingers cramp as he unclenches them from the rope.

Danny’s staring at him, open-mouthed.

“What?” Steve gasps, breathless, high on adrenaline.

Danny just shakes his head.

~~~

He’s filling out a report when a small packet lands on his desk. He glances at it, then looks again.

“Twisting balloons?” he asks dumbly.

“You’re like a one-person circus show.” Danny pokes at the balloons. “I figure you owe me a giraffe.”

Steve grins and relaxes back in his chair. “And how are you going to pay for your private entertainment?”

“I’m sure we can work something out.” Danny gives him a friendly leer. It’s kind of adorable.

“Oh yeah?” Steve pushes back from the desk, opens his legs in invitation and tilts his head up when Danny steps between them.

“Yeah,” Danny murmurs, and leans down to kiss him. Steve opens his mouth with a happy little sigh.

He does know how to do a giraffe.

Danny is very generous in his payment.


	3. 300 Words: Paralyzed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aries_Taurus wanted: angst, but not death, to the tune of “I need you to talk to me.”

“-and I need you to talk to me.”

Danny’s voice sounds tight, panicked. Steve doesn’t know what’s going on but he opens his mouth to say… except his mouth doesn’t open at all. Neither do his eyes. He tries to twitch his fingers, make some noise. Nothing happens.

Nothing, not even panic, his heartbeat sluggish in his ears. He feels Danny’s hands on his chest, his shoulders, tapping, shaking, but he can’t…

~~~

He’s being dragged… somewhere. His body is a limp weight in Danny’s arms, feet scraping uselessly across the ground. Danny’s breathing hard, cursing Steve’s weight, Steve’s life choices and, nonsensically, Steve’s cow.

‘I’m sorry,’ Steve thinks, 'what happened?’

But his thoughts are getting fuzzy again and he drifts off to the sound of Danny’s muttering.

~~~

He’s propped up against something hard, head at an awkward angle, Danny’s hand warm against his neck. Looking for Steve’s pulse or offering reassurance, Steve doesn’t know.

“I realize it’s a very you plan,” Danny is saying, “but I got no choice.”

'Wait,’ Steve thinks, 'wait, hold on, what?’

But Danny’s warmth is leaving him and Steve’s fingers won’t move, and Steve is left yelling inside his head as Danny hesitates, says, “Love you,” and walks away.

~~~

He wakes up, alone, and someone’s shouting in the distance.

~~~

He wakes up, alone, and everything is terribly quiet.

~~~

He wakes up, and Danny asks, “You with me this time?”

Steve opens his eyes and turns his head, each movement sluggish.

Danny’s got a busted lip, fresh stitches at his temple. Steve frowns.

“I’m fine,” Danny says. “You’re the one who got hit with a paralytic.”

Steve shapes his mouth around the word he’s been wanting to say.

“Danno.”

Danny smiles.  

“You’re a goof,” he says fondly.

Steve falls back asleep.


	4. Binge-Watching: Letters to Juliet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of a summary than a fic, bunny still free to a good home if you want to pick it up.

I’ve been watching Letters to Juliet and now I want nothing more than 16-year-old Grace, who stayed with her father after her parents’ divorce and her mom’s subsequent move to Hawai’i (Las Vegas, Chicago, Tucson, and lately San Francisco), helping her gandparents remodel their old house and finding the sweetest, saddest love letter hidden in her dad’s room. 

Her dad, when she asks about it, sighs and grumbles about privacy and then tells her about Steve McGarrett, who was at his school for one single, glorious year when  _they_ were 16. They were so young and so, so in love, and they had all these mad dreams about becoming cops and fighting crime, just like the guys on tv. But then Steve’s dad showed up and moved them god knows where, and that’s the last Danny ever saw of him. All he has to remember Steve by is that letter, Steve’s goodbye to him.

Grace, who has a long summer coming up with nothing to do but listen to her mom tell her why San Francisco would be so much better for her than New Jersey, immediately decides to reunite Danno with his long-lost love. 

The only problem? There are 124 Steve McGarretts in the US…

At first, she strikes out on her own. Seven Steve McGarretts live in the general area, after all, and she doesn’t think calling any of them and asking, “Hey, about 20 years ago when you were 16, did you fall in love with a boy?” would work all that well. 

The first Steve is a creepy butcher in Hoboken. She doesn’t even ask him where he went to school; if this is her dad’s Steve, she doesn’t want to know. The second Steve is a fireman, the third a banker, the fourth a florist, the fifth a used-car salesman. None of them were at the same school as her dad. 

The sixth has been missing since 9/11. She tries not to think about that. 

Danno catches up with her just as she’s reaching out to ring the seventh Steve’s doorbell. He yells at her, right there on the doorstep, about what the hell does she think she’s doing, has she never heard of stranger danger, didn’t he teach her better than that? She yells back that she’s doing this for him, that he’s a coward, that she knows perfectly well he’s not letting himself fall in love and telling himself it’s because of her but really he’s afraid because he tried twice and look where it got him. She’s so angry she’s overflowing with it, and she rings the damn bell without even conciously deciding to do it. 

The seventh Steve, it turns out, is not the right one. But she sees her dad’s face, sees the moment of disappointment. It’s then that Grace knows,  _knows_ , they have to find Steve. Otherwise, Danno will never get over him.

She spends the next two weeks talking Danno into a road trip. She knows they can’t check every single Steve McGarrett in person, but she goes to the very limit of her Google Fu to draw up a map, one trip, East Coast to West Coast, with fifty-nine McGarretts along the zig-zaggy way. 

None of them are it. 

And Grace feels worse the farther along they go, because the whole thing started out as this great adventure, a quest for true love, like something out of a story. But as she watches Danno force a grin at one stranger after another (and tip off the local police to arrest two of them, one for brewing meth, the other for human trafficking), she begins to realise that his life isn’t a story. That this isn’t some perfect romance; it’s messy and sad and maybe they should just… stop. 

He looks at her for a long while when she tells him, in tears, that she’s sorry, she didn’t mean to hurt him, can they just go back home? Looks at her, and says, “Monkey, sometimes you gotta see things through, even when they hurt.” 

And then he hugs her and kisses her temple and says, “Listen to me, I sound like a fortune cookie.” 

And she laughs, still crying, and hugs him back, grateful that he’s her Danno. 

Several days and several Steves later, they’re in front of San Francisco International Airport, because her summer break is almost over and Danno refuses to drive the whole way back. 

“You know, there’s a Steve McGarrett on Hawai’i,” she says, jokingly, because although this trip was a bust, deep down she still wants Danno to be happy. 

Plus, she visited Mom in Honolulu once, and it was awesome. 

“There’s a Steve McGarrett about to come through right here,” the stranger who just got out of the taxi says. “Why, what about him?”

The stranger introduces herself as Mary McGarrett. Next to Grace, Danno goes still. Grace holds her breath. 

Danno’s Steve had a sister called Mary. 

“Can we meet him?” Grace asks. “Please, Danno, can we?”

“Who’s Danno?” a new voice asks. 

They all turn around. 

The man is stupidly good-looking, tall and tanned, with colourful tattoos barely hidden by the sleeves of his t-shirt. He endures his sister’s hug with a fond grin and gives Grace a smile as he shakes her hand. He reaches out to shake Danno’s, too, but then he just… falters, hand sinking slowly to his side as he stares. 

“Danny?” he asks, every trace of a smile gone from his face. 

“Steve,” Danno says, and Grace has never heard his voice sound like that. Choked, like all his emotions are getting in the way of his talking. 

“Danny,” Steve, Steve McGarret,  _the_ Steve McGarrett, whom they just met by pure accident outside a major airport, repeats. He sounds almost reverent. 

Grace can’t tell who moves first, but suddenly the two are hugging, Steve’s face tucked into the crook of Danno’s neck, Danno’s nose mushed against Steve’s shoulder. Danno’s laughing, running his hands up and down Steve’s back as Steve rocks them back and forth. 

“Holy shit,” Mary says beside her, and Grace, hands in front of her mouth because her smile might split her face otherwise, can only nod in agreement. 

It’s still not a perfect romance. Danno yells at Steve for disappearing off the face of the Earth, and Steve shouts at Danno about the military and rules and anyway they were kids and he didn’t… he didn’t think Danno would… Jesus, he  _missed him so much._  Mary yells about them yelling, Steve yells at Mary for butting in, and Mary yells back about how they wouldn’t even have  _met_ if it wasn’t for her so how about he come off that high horse for a change? Danno starts laughing and both McGarretts yell at him, and it’s all such a giant mess that, if love stories ended this way, Grance thinks no one would ever read them. 

Half a year later, she’s in Honolulu, to stay this time. Mom doesn’t talk to her for a week after finding out. Grace sighs, but she understands. Danno and Steve argue about the stupidest things and she doesn’t understand  _that_ at all, but they also give each other these goofy, stupid-in-love grins so that’s okay. 

She’s deliriously, joyously happy. 


	5. 300 Words: Turnabout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kristen999 wanted: for the starter prompt:“I hope you like scary movies!” Genre, hmmm, dealer's choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I set this right after 8x10 (the one where Danny gets shot) because apparently I’m still not done with that episode. Hope you like!

“I hope you like scary movies!” Steve says, too cheerfully.

Danny blinks up at him, post-operation drugs making him slow. He hums a little, but it looks like that’s all Steve’s going to get for now.

He was hoping for Danny to point out how Steve knows full well what kind of movies Danny likes, but it’s probably too soon.

He plasters a smile on his face and sets the laptop on Danny’s tray table.

Danny falls asleep four minutes into the movie.

Steve stays anyway.

~~~

“-told me it was classified.” Steve shakes his head, appalled. “You would have done a better job of being a fake SEAL, and you don’t even meet the height requirements.”

Danny doesn’t bristle at the height comment or demand that Steve tell him about how own BUD/s class, then. Danny just watched him from dark, heavy-lidded eyes.

Steve clears his throat.

“Anyway, he didn’t say another word for the rest of the flight, so-”

~~~

He’s in the middle of reading from the book he brought when he feels Danny’s fingers creep around his wrist.

He breaks off mid-sentence to meet Danny’s gaze, a little drugged, a lot exasperated.

Danny tugs at his wrist.

“Steve,” he croaks, voice still hoarse from the respirator, and means, ‘stop.’

“Danny,” Steve says, and means ‘no.’

He  _doesn’t_  mean 'you died,’ because the idea alone is too horrible to even contemplate.

Danny sighs and keeps tugging until Steve’s hand is close enough for Danny to press his lips to Steve’s fingers. Steve closes his eyes, swallows hard. Danny tugs some more.

Sighing, Steve gives in, leans forward so he can rest his head gingerly half on the pillow, half on Danny’s shoulder. Danny huffs, strokes his hand over Steve’s short hair and lets Steve watch him breathe.


	6. 300 Words: Closeness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Librarychick94 wanted: fluffy McDanno to the tune of “You smell really nice.” I don't think I quite hit the fluffy.

“You smell really nice,” Danny says apropos of nothing. He’s tucked under Steve’s arm, sipping his beer and watching the game, comfortable and a little heavy-eyed.

“I’m not wearing any aftershave,” Steve says after a moment, sounding bemused.

“I know,” Danny says simply, and leaves it at that.

~~~

Sometimes, when it’s been raining for a while and the windows are closed, Steve’s entire house smells like him. Danny can open the door and step right in and feel his shoulders relax before Steve even yells hello.

He’ll never admit it, but those are the days he’s likely to stay over.

~~~

“Did you use a different detergent?” Danny asks, two minutes into the drive.

“Yeah, it was on sale.” Steve glances over. “How’d you know?”

Danny shrugs.

~~~

This is what he remembers from being shot: pain. Disjointed dreams and people yelling.

Steve’s scent, soothing until something hard covered Danny’s nose and mouth, Steve’s voice still in his ears.

~~~

“Hey,” he says quietly when a hand lands on his shoulder, keeping his gun trained on where their suspects are finally engaging in some criminal activity.

“How do you always know it’s me?” Steve asks, equally quiet.

Danny shushes him, doesn’t know how to say it.

~~~

He couldn’t begin to quantify it. There’s the laundry detergent, Steve’s soap, shampoo, occasionally his aftershave. Sometimes sweat, sometimes oil, sometimes the ocean. Underneath all that, always, intangibly, the same warmth. Familiarity. Comfort. Home. Love.

It’s just… it’s  _Steve_.

~~~

“You smell really nice,” Danny says, pressed up against Steve, still shaking, his nose pressed against Steve’s collarbone. He doesn’t know how else to say it. There’s a three-word sentence they’ve used too often for it to be enough.

“You changed your shampoo,” Steve mumbles into Danny’s temple.

Danny smiles and exhales.


	7. GIF-inspired: Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marciellesmusings [wrote about Steve bringing Danny back to Grace after Colombia](http://marciellesmusings.tumblr.com/post/113065442671/you-can-see-it-in-his-eyes-just-how-much-steve): _You can see it in his eyes, just how much Steve wants to be a part if that close little ohana. He doesn’t want to be leaning against his truck watching his two favourite people walk away from him. He wants to be walking with them, guiding Gracie away from Danny’s busted ribs, listening to Danny bitch at him how’s it’s barely a scratch and not the three busted ribs that Steve knows it actually is. He wants to hug them both and not let them out of his sight._
> 
> _Because they are his family and he loves them but he’ll never go to them unless the ask him to because he doesn’t want to intrude and he doesn’t think it’s his place._

He’s just convinced himself to get back into the truck and drive… somewhere. Not home. He doesn’t think he could deal with the emptiness of the place right now. He’s pushing away from the sun-warmed metal when he sees Danny bend awkwardly down to whisper something into Gracie’s ear. She hesitates, visibly reluctant to let go of him, but then she turns around and comes running back to Steve. 

He frowns at her, but lets himself be drawn forward when she reaches for his hand. 

“Danno said to go get my idiot uncle,” she tells him. Steve can tell that she’s aiming for cheeky, admires the way she’s trying to rally herself, but her voice is shaky, her whole body straining back toward her father as he pulls on Steve’s hand. 

“Did he forget something?” Steve asks. By then, they’re close enough to Danny that Grace lets go of Steve and slips back under Danny’s arm, so Steve amends his question to, “Did you forget something?”

“Did I-” Danny takes a deep breath, and then deflates as it makes him wince. But he wouldn’t be Danny if he were willing to drop an argument. “ _Yes_ , I forgot something. I forgot that for you, human emotions are something to be puzzled over from afar.”

“Hey,” Steve says mildly. He helps Danny slip his arm around Steve’s waist and shifts automatically so he can prop Danny up and tug Gracie’s hand a little lower, away from Danny’s ribs as they start walking toward the house. 

“Don’t ‘hey’ me,” Danny says. He’s flagging, probably going to crash as soon as they get him to sit down, but he still finds the strength to shoot Steve an exasperated look. “Did I, or did I not, just tell you you’re family, huh? Which part of that did you think meant ‘please go away now, we don’t want you here?’ Because I gotta tell you, if this is the level of skill you used to interpret your Army intel, it’s not wonder they sent you out into the field.”

“Navy,” Gracie says in Steve’s stead, which is good because Steve isn’t sure he could get out the word right now. 

“Uh huh,” Danny says. He keeps on grumbling, muttering under his breath about emotionally-stunted neanderthals and their long-suffering partners. Gracie sniffs and giggles and sniffs again, plastered against her father’s side, fingers twisting into the fabric of Steve’s shirt. 

Steve guides them, heart in his throat, to the house, to safety, to somewhere he can watch over his little family until they’ve finished putting each other back together and he can finally stop feeling this shattered. 


	8. 300 Words: Helpless Pining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bgharison wanted: “Shh, you’re safe now.” Go any direction your muse leads!

“Shh, you’re safe now.”

Steve watches as Danny kneels down and talks softly to the little girl, lets her burrow into his arms. She’s five, no older than Charlie, not nearly old enough to go through… this.

He tunes out Danny’s murmuring and quietly reports that they found her, threat neutralized, no, the perp won’t need any booking. The perp just needs the ME. His hand comes away bloody when he wipes it across his forehead and he grimaces at it, tells Lou he doesn’t need an ambulance, knows Lou will call one anyway.

Danny stands up, both arms wrapped around the girl as she clings to his neck. He keeps crooning at her, and Steve…

They never talk softly to each other, not unless something’s gone seriously wrong, and he doesn’t… it’s not that he’d want… and wry affection is great, anyway, so why ask for more?

“Is the man going to hurt us?” he hears the girl ask, and it takes him a moment to realize she’s talking about him. With his split lip and at least one bruised cheekbone and blood sheeting down his face, his forearm, staining his shirt…

She’s scared of him.

It hurts worse than any of the punches he’s taken today.

“What, that goof?” Danny asks with exaggerated surprise. “That’s Steve. He’s not gonna hurt you.” And when the girl looks doubtful, he adds, “He saved you, babe. He’s like a superhero.”

And yeah, there’s a wry twist to his mouth when he says it, but his voice is completely serious and his eyes…

Steve gulps.

Later, when he remembers how to breathe… maybe he’ll talk to Danny. Maybe he’ll figure out how to ask for… yeah.

For now, he just steps closer, bumps his shoulder against Danny’s and revels in the warmth.


	9. 300 Words: Lovecraft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon wanted: For your starter prompts - any interest in some kind of eldritch horror genre for "Shh, you're safe now"? Make it as weird as you feel like!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nonnie, you nearly broke my brain, torn as I was between “The SEAL in Yellow” and “At the Mauna of Madness” (as my best friend threw in) and “The Call of Cthaloha” and half a dozen other things. In the end, I went with “The Shadow over Honolulu” - hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Er, this really did turn into a horror short, complete with death of a supporting character. If that's not your thing, please skip this chapter.

“Shh, you’re safe now.”

Danny gulps down air, leaning heavily on Steve to stay upright. His throat is on fire, the skin around his neck aching dully with every too-fast beat of his heart. The bruises will be spectacular, but Danny can’t care, his eyes still locked on the… thing melting into the sand.

It’s shapeless, bloated, dozens of unseeing green eyes slowly popping on the slimy surface. The tentacle that had been wrapped around Danny’s throat has already turned into a puddle of stinking black ooze. Danny feels sick.

That thing used to be Eric.

“Wha-” he starts, but his voice comes out raspy and thin and it hurts, so he stops again.

“We think it’s two different pathogens,” Steve says. “The… transformation depends on who infects you. I’m sorry, Danny.”

He sounds much calmer than Danny feels, damn his Navy nerves.

Danny nods and closes his eyes, lets himself sag further against Steve, exhausted and scared.

Wait.

“‘We think?’” Danny croaks, because half the island seems to have turned into some weird kind of fish monster and the other half are becoming giant blobs who are rampaging through Honolulu and eating everything in their path unless commanded otherwise by said fish monsters.

Who has time to sit around and theorize right now?

He turns his head to find Steve looking down at him with a strangely soft expression.

Small, blue-green scales are gleaming at his temples, growing darker as Danny watches.

Danny jerks back, adrenaline rushing back in, but Steve’s grip on his wrist is like a clamp, iron-tight, unyielding.

“Shh,” Steve says again, “I told you, you’re safe now.”

He smiles, his teeth too sharp, too many, eyes fading to a watery blue as he leans down.

Danny doesn’t have the voice to scream.

He tries anyway.


	10. Consider: The Apple and the Tree

Consider:

Danny Williams moves to Hawaii, joins HPD, and gets partnered up with one John McGarrett, a Detective Sergeant who’s increasingly looking forward to his retirement. And that’s great, Danny loves that; he’s perfectly fine being the junior partner of a team-up, and someone with McGarrett’s time on the force should be a) experienced enough to teach Danny a thing or two and b) relaxed (but professional!) enough to be fun to work with, right?

Wrong.

John McGarrett, it turns out, is a  _maniac_. Things John McGarrett has: a comfortable amount of life savings, a house that’s paid off, and a long-lasting friendship with the Governor. Things John McGarrett has  _not_ : chill, restraint, or any fucks to give.

The man served in Vietnam and treats police procedure like it’s more of an adorably quaint guideline than The Rules. He drags Danny into investigating decades-old cold cases and the freaking yakuza and their fellow police officers. He does this with a tenacity and laser focus that’s as admirable as it is terrifying. He gets Danny into shoot-outs. He gets them into high-speed car chases in the middle of fucking nowhere, fishtailing through sugar cane fields and telling Danny to stop yelling, damn it, they’re gonna be fine. Danny shows up one morning to find him  _tied to a chair and with a gun to his head_ , and it’s only Danny’s reflexes that keep McGarrett’s brain from going splat on the wall.

Seriously. International terrorists before his second cup of coffee. This is Danny’s life now.

They’re having their weekly beat-the-odds-yet-again-yay barbecue at the back of John’s house when John’s son shows up, looking tired and unfairly hot in his ugly fatigues. He’s a little stiff but friendly and John kind of softens around him, so Danny allows himself the faint hope that hey, if that guy spends his leave here, maybe the next few weeks won’t be a near-death experience a day.

Then the guy informs John that he just accepted a job running the Governor’s new task force so he’s gonna stick around for a while, and oh yeah he’s got full immunity and means, wanna help clean up the island? And they grin at each other, sharp and expectant and completely unhinged, and Danny throws himself back in his chair and groans because, oh god.

Oh no.

There’s two of them.

(They rope him into their task force. He now has two near-death experiences a day. Three if you count sex with Steve.

His life is pretty fucking great.)


	11. 300 Words: Little League

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon wanted: McDanno “Have you seen my lucky (insert favorite team) jersey?

“Have you seen my lucky Honolulu Shrimps jersey?”

Junior isn’t living with Commander McGarrett anymore but he still likes to drop by. Sometimes they swim. Sometimes they drop some meat on the grill. Sometimes they sit and talk about places they both have seen, navigating around the classified spaces.

Sometimes, though, he walks into the kind of domestic scene that used to throw him when he first crashed here. Now, he just finds it funny.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but the chances of you fitting into that jersey are slim to none.”

Because they don’t even know they’re doing it. They keep falling into these mom-and-dad arguments and to them it’s normal while around them people stop in their tracks.

“I’m sorry, did you just call me fat?”

He can’t even see them. They’re both upstairs, but that doesn’t mean he can’t picture the affronted look on the Commander’s face.

Around Detective Williams, that look is a staple.

“Did I just… Yes, Steven, I just called you fat, because obviously I need my eyes examined.”

Detective Williams probably rolled those eyes right now. Junior grins.

“I can’t go to Charlie’s first little league game without my lucky jersey!”

“And I appreciate the sentiment, but you’ll have to buy a new one because the old one won’t fit! You’re not half as skinny as you were back then, thank god.”

There’s a pause. Junior backs towards the open door to the lanai because…

“Are you telling me you were worried about my health all the way back then?”

“Babe,” Detective Williams sighs, “I’ve been worried about your health since the day we met.”

… yeah. Time to retreat.

He just hopes that little league game isn’t today because going by the quiet, breathless noises, they’d be very late.


	12. 300 Words: Ticklish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Sealie, whose prompt I couldn't find again but who obviously wanted “Wow, I guess you really are that ticklish.”

“Wow, I guess you really are that ticklish.”

“I’m sorry,” Grace says, her little face miserable as she hands Steve another paper towel. “Danno says I should get a license for my knee.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s voice is slightly muffled, but he’s not going to let a little nosebleed stop him from tilting his head and examining the knee in question. Grace is sitting next to him on the couch so he doesn’t have to bend down far. “You know, I think Danno might be right. There are many different licenses, though.”

“Yeah?” she asks, brightening at the idea that classifying her knee as a dangerous weapon might be trickier than she thought.

“Yeah,” he says earnestly. “For a start, where does the magazine go in?”

He lifts her calf and pretends to examine her knee, poking lightly at the tendons in the back. She giggles, jerks. The heel of her foot hits his chin in exactly the right place to make him see stars.

He probably should have seen that coming.

~~~

“Daddy!” Grace runs at him the moment he opens the door, leaving him scrambling to put down the grocery bags without breaking anything before he has to catch her. She slings her arms around him and presses her face into his neck as he lifts her up, hand automatically going to her back. “I broke Uncle Steve!”

Before Danny can ask, Steve appears in the doorway, nose red and slightly swollen, a bruise forming on his chin.

“She didn’t break me,” he mutters, failing to meet Danny’s eyes.

Danny doesn’t laugh at him, but it’s a close thing.

“Aw, Monkey,” he says, “do you want help kissing it better?”

“Yeah!” she crows as Steve’s gaze snaps up, startled.

Danny grins.

Steve really should have seen this coming.


	13. GIF-inspired: The Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Aloha Spaceman posted this GIF-set of Steve and Eddie emerging from the ocean](https://alohaspaceman.tumblr.com/post/167489450191/or-i-dont-know-maybe-uh-maybe-he-just-doesnt)

The moment Steve sees Danny standing next to their chairs, his heart picks up speed. 

That in itself isn’t unusual. His heart picks up speed at anything that’s even vaguely Danny-related, and while Steve would like to pretend he doesn’t know exactly why this is happening, he’s not clueless.

But this time, there’s another reason for him to get excited. He schools his features, hides the almost-giddiness as Eddie sprints past him out of the water and dashes over to Danny. Steve follows more slowly, avoids the rocks strewn all over his beach and then, when Danny’s good-natured grousing has reached peak distraction, he says the words he’s been waiting to say for over a week. 

“Eddie, shake!”

Eddie, the very best of boys, shows off his new trick, tail wagging in excitement. Danny steps back far too late, and his expression when he looks at Steve, sprayed with water all the way up to his collarbone…

Steve cackles. 

He cackles, and then he hides his face in his towel because Danny is looking at him, amused and oddly proud at Steve’s pranking skills, and Steve’s heart isn’t picking up speed so much as trying to reach escape velocity. 

“He loves me very much,” Danny says, and yeah, Steve thinks, yeah, we both do. 

Maybe one of these days, between the ocean drying on his skin and the sun warming his bones and the breeze carrying scents of home and safe and Danny, always Danny… maybe one of these days, he’ll even say as much. 


	14. The Guy in the Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mollymaloneofvlz wanted: Danno meets Steve, but Steve is a ghost or some supernatural being and it happens that only Danny can see and speak to him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think that the Steve in this ficlet isn't dead at all. He's just... dimensionally challenged.

Danny knows three things about the guy in the mirror.

One, his name is Steve. This, Danny found out after he could breathe again and his heartbeat had returned to a healthier frequency, and he’d dare anyone to greet unexpected strangers in their bathroom with calm and poise, okay, especially strangers who only show up in reflective surfaces. They’d gestured at each other and drawn letters into the air to exchange names, and then Danny had fled to hyperventilate for a while because, <i>unexpected stranger in his bathroom mirror.</i>

Two, Steve can interact with things that are also in the mirror, but only on his own side and only if Danny puts them there for him. Danny doesn’t know how that’s supposed to work, but then he doesn’t know how Steve got to be there in the first place.

Three, no one else can see him.

This last one is both a blessing (Grace won’t get a scare the next time she comes over) and not (Danny might be losing his mind and an invisible pervert might watch his innocent daughter on the toilet).

The realization that Steve could see anything Danny is doing, anytime, is why all the reflective surfaces in Danny’s house that he could do something about have either been turned around or covered up. Kono, the one time she’d visited him, had raised her eyebrows at that, but Danny hadn’t been in the mood to try and explain. He’d just turned the TV so the screen was facing them, switched to some surfing competition off the Australian coast Kono had wanted to watch, and hoped for the best.

Steve pouts at him every time Danny needs the mirror to shave.

Right now, they’re out on a case, though, so Danny can’t exactly avoid reflections without earning himself all sorts of suspicious looks. Cars with windshields and mirrors and polished bits are all around him. People wearing sunglasses. Big picture windows covering storefront displays, turning into giant mirrors at the right angle.

Something moves in one of them and Danny automatically looks, only to find Steve waving frantically and, once he sees he’s got Danny’s attention, stabbing his index finger at somewhere off to Danny’s left. Danny jerks around, hand going to his gun, and this is the only reason that, instead of his neck, the bullet buries itself in a mannequin wearing a twenty-dollar sundress. Glass shatters as Danny returns fire, people screaming around him, and the rest of the day goes downhill from there.

“Great reaction time, brah,” Kono tells him later. “Were your spider senses tingling?”

“Something like that,” Danny mutters, and makes a decision.

It’s late when he gets home but he still feels wired, jittery, like he couldn’t settle down even if he wanted to. Luckily, he doesn’t want to just yet. He carries his grocery bags into the kitchen (a large dishtowel draped over the oven door, a smaller one over the microwave) and unpacks, stores, opens packages and makes little stacks of what goes where. New light bulb for the bedroom. TV guide for the living room. A small pile of things for the bathroom.

Danny takes a deep breath, holds it, lets it out again.

Then he walks into the bathroom and turns the mirror back around.

Steve is waiting for him, arms crossed and glaring, but Danny holds up a finger to make him wait before the inevitable flurry of sharp, angry gestures. Steve presses his lips together, but he gives Danny a tight little nod.

All right. Here goes.

Holding Steve’s gaze, Danny puts three things on the little shelf below the bathroom mirror. A beer, because god knows Steve has earned one. A book on American Sign Language, because flailing, no matter how pointed, still doesn’t count as proper communication. And a phone, because… because… well.

Steve’s eyes light up and he grins, picking up the phone almost before Danny’s finished setting it down. He looks at Danny, expectant and with an air of self-satisfaction that isn’t attractive at all.

Danny sighs and writes his number into the air, pretending his heart isn’t picking up speed the further he gets. Steve’s grin is growing digit by digit until he looks almost giddy, finishing with a flourish and putting the phone up to his ear.

This is ridiculous. It probably won’t even work. It’s not like there are cell towers on the other side of the mirror.

In Danny’s pocket, his own phone starts to ring.


	15. 300 Words: Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Littlebro-Williams wanted: For the starter thingy: “I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.” If you could make it with Danny, and for a twist, make it angsty? :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for life-threatening illness and accompanying angst, don’t read if you’re not in the headspace for that sort of thing.

“I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.”

The restaurant is full of people, laughing, eating, talking over each other. Danny’s crazy extended family. Who would have thought he’d ever find a home like this? Not him, that’s for sure. Even Chin is here, bringing his own little family, and Danny would be lying if he said he wasn’t touched.

He always thought he’d end up old and alone.

Next to him, Steve says quietly, “You’re not happy now.”

Danny’s smile comes out brief and sad because no, happy isn’t the right word for it. Content, maybe, but not happy.

Tomorrow, the restaurant will close its doors for the foreseeable future. The day after that, if he makes it through surgery, Danny will be missing half his lungs.

At least the damn coughing will stop. Steve’s always on him about positive thinking so he might as well give it a shot, right?

It’s funny, kinda, how not a single person thought that Danny would be the one to get cancer. Well, not a single person except Danny. He started expecting something like this after his second brush with death by biochemical weapon.

It’s just… everyone’s looking at him like he’s dying, like maybe he is dead already, but he’s not, okay? He’s not and he’s trying to stick around, for his kids, for the big dope standing next to him, oozing sadness and concern. He’s trying; it’s just hard to put up a decent fight when he is tired all the time.

He’s so tired.

But not alone.

He reaches for Steve’s hand and squeezes. The base of his throat tickles, but he swallows the cough for now.

“Happy enough,” he promises, and smiles again when Steve squeezes back, grip too tight, holding on for dear life.


	16. GIF-inspired: Soulmates I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Tissueoflies created this GIF-set about seeing oneself through someone else's eyes](http://tissueoflies.tumblr.com/post/173420131843/requested-by-erienne1983-gif-version-of-this)

The marks have always been a popular bone of contention.

_Localized sensory organ,_  some biologists say,  _designed by evolution to find the most compatible mate for procreation._

_A gift from God,_  some Western religions say,  _to remind us that, truly, man was made in His image._

_The path to true enlightenment,_  some Eastern religions say, f _or to be one with another is to be one with all._

_A nuisance,_  some say.

_The only way to find true love,_  some say.

_We’ll probably never know,_  some say, and maybe they are closest to the truth.

~~~

Most days, Danny doesn’t think about the mark at his temple. It’s just there in his face, like his nose or his eyebrows.

He only touched marks twice. The first time was with Rachel, back when they were so in love he couldn’t see straight. Her skin cool against his own, dark hair softly brushing his nose. She’d smelled amazing and she’d loved him so, so much. He was her rock, her prince, her American cowboy with his gun and his swagger and his funny way of talking. He’d basked in her infatuation with him and she’d laughed, delighted, at the way he admired her stubbornness, her elegance, the mystery of her. They’d never brought their marks together again, not even during sex, and in hindsight that probably saved their marriage for years. Still, Danny sometimes misses the way she made him into a movie version of himself, even though he failed to measure up.

The second time, he’d like to forget. He’d been tied to a chair, his beautiful partner dead beside him, half out of his mind with pain and grief and helpless anger. One of the goons had suddenly grinned and yanked Danny’s head back by his hair, bringing their temples together and Danny found himself mired in the cloying satisfaction of causing pain, of seeing Danny as nothing but trash, the disposal of which was eagerly anticipated. Sometimes, the fear of dreaming about it keeps him up all night.

But most days, he doesn’t think about the mark.

Then Steve laughs or looks at him with that deep affection, and he wonders.

~~~

He never does anything about it. Not even when Steve is bleeding out from several gunshot wounds and touching marks might be the only way to hold on to at least part of him after he’s…

Not even then.

~~~

He never would have done anything about it, either. They agreed, years ago, that as long as they’re working together, a romantic relationship is out of the question. They’ve been more or less successful at sticking to that plan.

But then a little girl dies and the plan to catch whoever’s responsible backfires and Steve slowly, quietly, breaks down. Danny can deal with a lot of things – the loss of his brother, missing his son – but he can’t take Steve doubting himself like that.

He just can’t.  

~~~

Steve opens the door in pajama pants and a t-shirt. He looks pale, dull-eyed, the lines around his mouth deeper than ever.

“Not a good time, Danny.” Even his voice lacks life.

“I know,” Danny says, and barges in regardless.

Steve sighs and closes the door, follows him deeper into the living room.

“What do you want?” he asks, sounding so exhausted that Danny himself starts to feel tired.

“I want,” Danny says, taking great care to keep his body language as open as possible, “to show you how much of a fuck-up I think you are.”

Steve’s shoulders sag and he rubs a hand across his face.

“Why?”

“Because you deserve it,” Danny says honestly. It’s hard to see Steve like this, no fight left in him, but the thing about Steve is that, while he still finds it hard to ask for help, he takes punishment like a trooper if he thinks it’s his due. It breaks Danny’s heart.

Steve’s mouth tightens, but he doesn’t protest, doesn’t move away or tell Danny to leave. He just stands there, silently hurting, waiting for one more person to tell him he’s not good enough.

Danny swallows and walks over to him, hesitating before he reaches up and slides around the back of Steve’s neck, pulls gently. Steve closes his eyes and leans down.

Steve’s skin is warm against Danny’s temple, the nearness of his body as familiar as his scent in Danny’s nose. Danny closes his own eyes, moves in that little bit closer.

Their marks touch.

Danny’s fingers clench involuntarily as he’s hit with a sense of admiration so deep, it nearly pulls him under. In Steve’s eyes, Danny’s the best father ever to walk the planet. In Steve’s eyes, Danny’s smart, brave, grouchy, beautiful. In Steve’s eyes, Danny’s the sun and the moon and all the stars combined, a force of nature that brings life and light and a sense of direction.

Danny sniffles, tries to hold back the tears.

No one’s ever loved him like that.

Against him, Steve is silently crying, wetness running down his cheek and dripping into the collar of Danny’s t-shirt.

Because in Danny’s eyes, Steve is a lodestone, a pillar, the axis on which the world turns. In Danny’s eyes, Steve is a goofball, necessity, beloved, a hero. In Danny’s eyes, Steve is the eye of the storm, safe and dangerous in equal measures, and so fucking amazing it hurts.

“Danny,” Steve chokes.

Danny has no idea who moves first, but they both turn their heads, blindly searching and finding each other’s mouths. The kiss is a mess of wet breaths and tears, not quite enough air and trembling hands. It fixes nothing.

Danny keeps his hand on the back of Steve’s neck and holds on tight.

~~~

Danny watches Steve lean back in his office chair. Some of the dark circles under his eyes remain and he’s still a little pale, but he looks settled, more at ease with himself. He glances up, meets Danny’s gaze, and smiles.

Danny rubs an absent finger over the mark at his temple and smiles back.


	17. Consider: Soulmates II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set kind of around 6x25, the one with the plane crash and subsequent liver donation.

Consider: 

The names written on a person’s body are those of the important people in their life, good and bad.

When Steve is four years old, ‘MOM’ is scribbled in capital letters across his belly where his mom likes to blow raspberry kisses to make him dissolve into delighted giggles. 'Dad’ is smaller letters on his right thigh because Dad says he’s a runner and they race each other and Steve always wins.

When he’s nine, 'Mary’ is barely legible over the permanent bruise on his upper arm where she likes to punch him, the little monster.

He’s sixteen when 'MOM’ – smaller now, no longer across his belly, but still in capital letters – disappears from his skin. It will take him almost twenty years to realize that she cut herself out of his life so thoroughly, she might as well have died that day. Like Dad will die, his name forever erased from the living canvas of Steve’s body. Like so many of his friends, bright tattoos covering the places where they held him up, where he carried them, where they once were and no longer are.

Like theirs, his mother’s name will never return.

The Hesse brothers, on the other hand, spend years circling the base of his neck like a noose. One name disappears the same day his father’s does. The other fades but won’t go completely, not until Wo Fat, who is a jagged line in the palm of Steve’s hand, where he can feel it when he clenches his fist.

Not all is heartbreak, though. Mary’s name reappears bit by bit, no longer hidden by a bruise but brought out by fond memory. 'Cath’ stays on the right side of his chest even after they break up for good; will probably always be there, fading but still loved. 'Kono,’ on his left shoulder blade, always having his back. 'Chin Ho,’ evenly spaced down the bumps of his spine, lending him strength.

'Danny.’

Danny laughs when he first sees his name – 'Williams’ – etched across Steve’s knuckles because he of all people understands the urge to punch someone. In those early days, the urge is as constant as it is mutual. The name moves, though, first to wrap around his wrist like a handcuff he put there himself, then to scrawl across his forearm like it owns the space, as if it wants to yell at him that he’s not alone, dammit, and to please,  _please_  think before he jumps into the fray. Can he do that? Huh?

It also changes. 'Williams’ becomes 'Danny’ becomes 'Danno,’ always in the same spot, a growing comfort, more promise than threat.

Wherever Steve goes, Danno will be there with him.

He learns to rely on it, Danny’s presence in his life, on his skin. Learns to trust that it’s there to stay. And if, sometimes, when the day has been so bad Steve feels the exhaustion seep all the way down into his bones, he traces the familiar letters with his fingers and lets himself ache, well, that’s between him and the silent darkness of his bedroom.

Except then he gets shot. Bleeds out, slowly but steadily, drop after drop leaking from his numbing body, and even Danny can’t hold him together. Drifts out of consciousness, Danny’s frantic voice in his ears, knowing he’s going to die, hoping to god that this will be the one time Danny won’t follow. Wishing, in that detached way that comes with knowing it’s too late, that he could have found his own name on Danny’s skin and traced it until he knew its shape.

He dies.

When he wakes up, he’s got a new liver and Danny’s name is gone from his arm.

He panics. Won’t believe the nurses that Danny is fine. Struggles until sedation pulls him under. Wakes up again, remembers, can’t breathe through the pain of it. Gets sedated, and is grateful for the oblivion.

The third time he surfaces, it’s to find a tall man in scrubs standing by his bed, looking exasperated and holding a small mirror.

“I’m your surgeon, Dr. Cornett,” the man says, and proceeds to gently scold Steve for making a nuisance of himself while a nurse props Steve up and divests him of his hospital gown. Steve doesn’t care, doesn’t really listen, until Cornett holds up the mirror and more or less orders Steve to take a look.

Steve looks.

Thick bandages cover the center of his chest in a long line all the way down to his abdomen. He blinks, disinterested… and then he sees them. Three letters, 'nno,’ stretching out possessively from underneath the bandage and over the left side of his chest, right above his heart.

It’s the drugs that make him tear up, not the relief.

Danny spends a lot of their hospital time staring pointedly at the bare skin of Steve’s forearm, but Steve doesn’t tell him about the new location of his name. Doesn’t know how to, and probably wouldn’t even if he did. He just… it’s not that he doesn’t want Danny to know, exactly. The way they are with each other, Danny will see anyway, sooner rather than later. But Steve would like to get used to it first; wants to explore everything it acknowledges. Between the liver and  _this_ , he thinks he can’t be blamed for needing a little time to process.

He should have remembered that Danny runs on a schedule of his own.

Steve has been home for two days when Danny walks in without knocking, waking Steve from an uneasy nap on the couch.

“Funny thing,” Danny says, sounding anything but amused. “When I woke up after generously donating my liver,” Steve rolls his eyes, but Danny doesn’t take the bait, “you were still on the operating table.”

He reaches up and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“Uh,” Steve says.

“Your name disappeared and reappeared four times.” Plop, goes a button. Plop, plop. “Four, Steven. Do you know…” Danny falters, swallows.

“Danny.”

“Four.” Plop. “Times.”

Danny shrugs his shirt off his shoulders, lets it drop to the floor. On any other day, Steve would tell him off for that.

Right now, he’s too busy staring.

The wound down Danny’s chest is a mirror of his own, too fresh and open to comfortably look at. So he doesn’t, lets his gaze skitter away from the violence of it, to land on…

His breath hitches.

“So I noticed my name moved away from your arm,” Danny says quietly.

Steve reaches out, doesn’t care that his fingers are trembling when they brush over fuzzy hair, hot skin, the letters that are staking out a claim over Danny’s heart.

“Yours moved, too,” Danny adds, still in that hushed tone, like a too-loud noise might shatter the moment.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, voice rough with wonder as he’s handed everything he’s been wanting, just like that. “Yeah, Danno.”

And he kisses his breath into Danny’s lungs, knowing more aches will fade than just the scar on his chest.


	18. Archery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kristen999 wanted: Steve and Danny encounter a member(s) of The Avengers while on a case or just walking to get their morning coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after 6x18, which is the episode where Danny wields an actualfax bow. I deviated a tiny bit from the prompt, hope it still works for you. <3

Steve is driving them home when they get the call.

“This is Dillingham Airfield,” a young male voice tells them, sounding slightly confused. “We, uh. We got a quinjet here requesting permission to land.”

“Okay,” Steve says, because while that’s interesting, he doesn’t see what it has to do with Five-0.

“They’re also requesting Detective Williams, sir.” The young man clears his throat.

Steve opens his mouth to ask if they said  _why_  they want Danny and who ‘they’ are in the first place, but Danny’s already heaving out a sigh that sounds like it came from the depths of his soul.

“Tell them we’re on our way,” he says, in a voice so weary that Steve turns to look at him.

Danny rubs his hand across his face in a tired motion.

“Eyes on the road,” he says, but there’s no heat in it.

Steve returns his eyes to the road and bites his lip.

“You okay?” he asks, knowing his chances at getting a usable answer out of his boyfriend are about fifty-fifty right now.

“I’m going to fucking Dillingham,” is Danny’s nonsensical answer.

Steve wants to prod. He really does. He wants to pull over and park on the shoulder until Danny tells him what’s going on.

He turns the car around and drives Danny to fucking Dillingham.

~~~

The quinjet has landed by the time they get there, and Steve has to admit that it’s an impressive piece of technology, sleek and black and probably fast as hell. He wouldn’t mind getting his hands on it, but Tony Stark and the military cut those ties long before this beauty ever existed.

Danny gets out of the car at the same time one of the jet’s doors pops open.

“Come on,” he says, like Steve was going to hang back, and starts to walk over there.

They’re a few steps away when a someone with a vaguely Midwestern accent speaks up inside the jet.

“'Five-0 Second to be New Hawkeye?’” the voice declares dramatically. Steve recognizes the headline from yesterday’s Star Advertiser. “The hell, Danny? You finally use a decent weapon and Tony’s gotta be the one to tell me about it?”

“Oh god,” Danny moans, but Steve can tell he’s about one step away from grinning. “I was hoping for Natasha. What did I do to deserve you? Go away!”

“Nope.” A blond guy jumps out of the door to land on the tarmac in front of them. He’s dressed in black cargo pants and a purple t-shirt, and the ugliest pair of sunglasses Steve’s ever seen sits right on a strip of band-aid that crosses the bridge of the guy’s nose. He’s also balancing a small stack of pizza boxes on his left hand. Steve’s mouth drops open. “Tony says your stance was okay but your aim was for shit. I’m here to help.”

“I’ve got a gun,” Danny protests, “I don’t need your help.”

“I brought pizza,” the guy, the superhero, the  _fucking Avenger_ , says, waggling the stack enticingly.

“Tony D’s?” Danny asks.

“Yep.”

“Okay, you can stay for a few hours.”

Steve finally finds his voice again.

“You know Hawkeye,” he says flatly.

“Danny pulled me out of a dumpster,” Hawkeye – Hawkeye! – says with a sheepish grin.

“Pulled you out of a… I didn’t pull you out of a dumpster!” Danny snaps, hands up in the air as if he could toss away the very notion. “I pulled you out of  _four_  dumpsters! Two of them on the same day! You’re even worse than this guy!”

He gestures at Steve and Hawkeye cocks his head. Steve has the distinct impression that behind those ridiculous sunglasses, he’s being studied with renewed interest.

“McGarrett?” Hawkeye asks, rendering Steve speechless all over again. At Danny’s nod, Hawkeye adds, “Nice to meet you, call me Clint,” and sticks out his hand. Steve shakes it, feeling like the island just tipped upside-down and dropped him into freefall.

Hawkeye knows his name. Hawkeye knows his name because Hawkeye knows Danny. Danny ‘commiserates’ about Steve with Hawkeye.

What. The hell.

“Steve,” he says faintly, aware that to his right, Danny is quietly laughing at him.

Hawkeye may or may not be Steve’s favorite Avenger.

“So,” he says, pulling himself together by sheer force of his training, “archery first, or pizza?”

“There will be no archery,” Danny sputters, at the same time as Hawkeye says, “Pizza now, archery tomorrow.”

Steve grins.

He has a feeling that the next few days are going to be fun.    


	19. Prettiest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [incorrecthawaii5-0quotes made this post:](http://incorrecthawaii5-0quotes.tumblr.com/post/173300719432/steve-leaning-on-dannys-doorframe-so-hows-the)
> 
> **Steve, leaning on Danny's doorframe:** So, how's the prettiest person in the world doing?  
>  **Danny, not looking up, speaking casually:** I don't know, how are you babe?  
>  **Steve, voice cracking:** I’m fine.

It’s supposed to be a joke.

Danny got his reluctant haircut yesterday. It looks fine to Steve, but maybe one of the hairs at the back of Danny’s neck has been cut too short for Danny’s exacting standards, because he’s been running his fingers over it all goddamn morning. It’s almost like he’s doing it on purpose, taunting Steve with the things he can’t have, except even if Danny knew how badly Steve wants his own fingers to rest at the nape of Danny’s neck, he wouldn’t tease. Not about that.

Danny can be a jerk sometimes, but he isn’t cruel.

But he keeps doing it and the rest of the team have started counting, betting on whether or not the number of times Danny’s absently fussing will reach triple digits by the end of the day. Just some gentle ribbing, all in good fun, and maybe Steve lets himself get carried away a little, but man, Danny and his hair have been a source of entertainment for years.

So he leans against the doorframe of Danny’s office, tapping a file against his leg as he asks, “So, how’s the prettiest person in the world doing?”

Only, Danny doesn’t play along. Doesn’t grouse or roll his eyes or grin and bat his eyelashes.

In fact, Danny doesn’t even look up.

Danny just says, in a voice that’s more absent-minded than anything else, “I don’t know, how are you, babe?”

And Steve  _wants_  to smirk and say something simple like, ‘Aw, shucks.’ He wants to slip into a cocky little pose and say that he’s fine, thank you, and also can Danny take a look at this cold case because the report seems off but Steve can’t quite figure out what. He wants to say that Navy SEALs are stunning, not pretty, but thanks for the sentiment.

Instead, he feels all the air leave him in a rush and what comes out is a decidedly wobbly, “I’m fine.”

He’s fine. He’s fucking fine. Jesus fucking Christ, what the hell is  _wrong_  with him? Why did he say that? Where did that even come from? And why the hell did he have to croak it like that, why couldn’t he have said it smoothly, like Danny calling him pretty is no big deal, like it’s the fucking joke it was supposed to be?  _What is wrong with him?_

Steve clears his throat and pretends that his heart isn’t beating hard enough to burst an artery.

Danny is staring at him, looking as taken aback as Steve feels. Steve refuses to look away even though he wants nothing more than to retreat and freak out in the privacy of his own office. His eyes are burning; must be the AC acting up again.

“Steve,” Danny says flatly. “Come over here for a second.”

Steve doesn’t want to come over there for a second. He wants to go to the men’s room and stick his head under the tap until his cheeks are as cold as the water.

His fingers clench around the file.

“Steve,” Danny says again. He’s turned in his chair so he’s sitting sideways to the desk, and one of his fingers is stabbing down at the floor in front of his feet. His expression is grim, like he won’t be held responsible for his actions if Steve dares to disobey his order.

Steve goes.

Steve goes and stands in front of Danny and he’s not breathing faster because his stupid heart isn’t breaking, because he’s  _fine_ , he said so just now and he doesn’t lie to Danny so it must be true.

Danny reaches for the file in Steve’s hand, tugging hard when Steve’s fingers refuse to let go. Danny wins, of course he does, and the file gets tossed carelessly onto Danny’s desk. Danny’s fingers close around Steve’s wrist and pull.

Steve swallows, has to close his eyes when Danny smooths Steve’s fingers over the nape of Danny’s neck, hand warm on Steve’s knuckles to keep him still. Danny’s skin is soft and dry under Steve’s touch, fine hairs tickling his palm.

He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, he almost misses it when Danny asks, conversationally, like they do this every day, “Why, exactly, did you think I decided to retire on Oahu?”

Steve shakes his head minutely, words stuck in his throat.  _Grace_ , he thinks,  _Charlie_ , but that’s not true, is it? With Stan out of the picture and Rachel so obviously in the wrong, Danny could pick up his ex-wife and his children and move back to the glorified land of New fucking Jersey tomorrow if he wanted.  _Ohana_ , he thinks, but that’s not it, either. Max is gone, so are Chin and Kono; ohana doesn’t have to stay in one place to continue being ohana.  _Me,_  he thinks,  _just me_ , and can’t believe it because it can’t possibly be true. Steve doesn’t get to keep the people he… wants. Not Catherine, not his mom, and certainly not… surely not…

Steve’s fingers twitch and shift and curl into Danny’s hair. It’s soft. Danny’s thumb rubs soothing lines over the back of Steve’s hand, back and forth, warm and steady.

He lets out a slow, shuddering breath.

“Can you please just kiss me already, you big goof?” Danny asks, a smile in his voice, his tone not nearly as mocking as it could be.

Steve sways forward, leans down, his own lips turning into a smile just before they meet Danny’s and his world realigns.

It’s really not funny. But he wants to laugh anyway.

 

 


End file.
